


Mulled Wine

by Adarog (RembrandtsWife)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Intoxication, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/Adarog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about mulled wine is that it doesn't really taste like wine.  Which is why Merlin likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mulled Wine

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. I claim no ownership and am making no money. This version of Merlin et al. belongs to Shine and the BBC, but the Matter of Britain belongs to world literature. Written for Hermette's Winter Fic comment fest, 11/30/2010.

The thing about mulled wine is that it doesn't really taste like wine. Which is why Merlin likes it.

Merlin is a peasant and he's not ashamed of it: He grew up drinking ale and small beer and his mother's herbal brews, and he doesn't really like wine because he never developed the taste for it. Wine is for nobles, water is often dodgy, and ale is a good safe drink; stout is a treat when you can get it, and his mother's infusion of chamomile and mint is good, especially if you can't get to sleep.

But when the weather turns cold, the kitchens at Camelot put spices in the wine and serve it warmed, and Merlin discovered pretty quickly that he likes it that way. And sometimes he drinks rather a lot of it, especially when his room is going to be very, very cold that night.

Arthur is peering into the jug with a dubious expression on his face. "Just how much of this have you had, Merlin? You couldn't leave a cup for your lord and master?"

"My lord and master has a thick duvet and a warming pan for his bed, which I don't." Merlin hiccups and pretends he hasn't. "I've had enough mulled wine that I won't feel the cold when I go to bed."

Arthur gives Merlin one of those exasperated looks, hands on his hips. "Well, why didn't you say something, idiot? You can sleep here, then."

Merlin looks around. "Here? in your sitting room? At least my bed has a mattress."

Arthur cuffs Merlin lightly on the head. "Not *here* here, you idiot, here with me. In the bed. With the aforementioned duvet and warming pan."

Merlin's eyes go wide, and he gulps more mulled wine. A few cloves from the bottom of the cup sneak onto his tongue. "Sleep with you? Isn't that rather... what, I mean--"

Arthur raises his eyes heavenward. "It's entirely the done thing, Merlin. No one will think anything of it, and I'm not going to make advances on your person, if that's what you're worried about."

Merlin hiccups again and fails to pretend this time. "You could, you know. If you wanted."

Arthur comes to stand right in front of Merlin, frowning as he peers down at his manservant from his (temporarily) superior height. "I could do what, if I wanted?"

Merlin looks up, grinning. He really has had a lot of mulled wine, and he feels warm all over. "Make advances on my person."

Arthur reaches down, grasps Merlin by the elbows, and pulls him to his feet. Merlin sags comfortably, letting Arthur hold him up. His legs seem to have gone walking on their own without the rest of him.

Arthur takes the cup out of Merlin's hand and sets it firmly on the table. "I suppose if I want any more wine--" he says, and kisses Merlin.

Arthur tastes better than the wine, and the caress of his lips, his spicy-sweet breath, the sheer closeness of his body, make Merlin feel warmer than he's ever felt. He could go out in a blizzard now and feel fine.

"--I'll have to drink it from your mouth," Arthur finishes, in a whisper, and touches Merlin's lower lip with one fingertip. Merlin remembers to close his mouth.

He drapes his arms around Arthur's shoulders and presses his face to Arthur's neck. "It's getting late. You said something about sharing a bed?"


End file.
